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“I’d offer you coffee, but I know you won’t drink it.”
He’d never allowed himself to overthink his feelings for Alesha. His life was fast-paced, and she was his housekeeper. Xavier didn’t do romance or commitment. And nice girls like Alesha were destined for stable men who could provide the whole white picket fence deal. All El Diablo was good for was killing. “You know a lot about me, don’t you?”
“You kept talking about a sister.”
His entire body tensed. Graciella had always been his one weakness. She stole his focus, and brought out the worst in him. His desperation to find her had taken over his life. “I have no sister,” he said, trying to back up his argument that everything he’d said last night was bullshit.
“So, everything was a lie? The woman you said they killed never existed? That’s a really big imagination you have.”
“Crazy, eh?” He walked over to the dresser, supporting his weight on his hands as he leaned in close to examine his face in the mirror. “I look like shit.”
He usually kept his shoulder-length hair in a short ponytail. Now it was loose and wild, his eyes red-rimmed. What he needed was a long, cold shower.
Staying in bed to recover wasn’t in the cards. Boss had an assignment for him today. A punishment for fucking up yesterday. That woman dying on his watch was punishment enough, but he was being sent on a recon mission. Boss knew they bored the fuck out of him.
It was a black-tie event, some fancy fundraiser. Xavier couldn’t stand those rich snobs, and he had to force a smile and mingle with them all night long. And he needed a date.
His thoughts shifted to Alesha again. Was this a game they were playing, or did she believe all the lies he was dishing? His hope was to brush this major lapse in judgment off as nothing so he didn’t have to kill her. He didn’t want to kill her. Imagining those pretty blue eyes permanently closed made him bristle.
“You look good considering,” she said, catching his attention. He glanced sideways at her. “You didn’t tell me about the blood.”
He internally groaned. “It was a crazy night,” he said, his frustration growing. “I don’t remember much. Must have gotten a cut or something.”
She stood up, approaching him at the dresser. Alesha shifted him to face her, then ran her fingertips down his chest. It surprised him how good her touch felt. He thought he’d lost all sensation decades ago. “No, not a single scratch. I would have noticed last night. You’re pretty heavy too, by the way. Not very easy to lug to bed.”
Xavier grabbed her wrist, her fingers still lingering on his skin. She let out a barely audible gasp. “I work hard, but I play hard, too. Sometimes things get a little crazy with all the booze and bitches. I’m sure it’ll come back to me, but I guarantee you won’t want the details.”
She needed to move on and forget everything she’d seen or heard. He had to push her away. If she kept focusing on things he couldn’t explain to her, it would leave him with only one choice. And he didn’t want to go there.
“Right. None of my business.”
He released her hand. “I know it’s a work day, but considering you were up all night because of me, I want you to get some sleep.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Xavier shook his head. She looked exhausted. “No, you’re going to sleep. End of discussion.”
She headed to the door of his bedroom, and he exhaled in relief. Maybe everything would turn out fine, and she’d move on, never mentioning this shit again. This was the first and last time he drank himself sick.
He wasted no time getting into his en-suite shower, savoring the cool water washing over his face. If only it could wash away his guilt. He was only a few seconds too late yesterday. If he’d known that fucker was going to slit that girl’s throat, he could have done things differently. If only he’d listened to Viper and waited before acting.
If only…
He couldn’t undo the past. Xavier slammed the heel of his hand against the tiles, over and over until a web of cracks appeared. He wanted to cry, but that dam had dried up decades ago. This was fucking ridiculous. Xavier knew better than to let his emotions get the better of him. His job as a hitman was perfect as it required being numb, heartless, ready to go to hell and back for a kill. It had never been an issue, but that woman yesterday had reminded him of Graciella.
He recalled when he’d freed Chains’s woman from being trapped in his basement last year. Any time he discovered an innocent woman being abused, it sparked that weakness inside him, that protective instinct he couldn’t seem to shake.
Then his thoughts drifted to Alesha. He could avoid the truth, but he knew damn well he’d hired her because of his attraction to her. Her innocence had pulled him in, and those curves had sealed the deal. It’s not like anything could ever happen between them, but he’d hired her nonetheless. Now he’d put them in an uncomfortable position. A dangerous one.
Did she believe his stories?
He’d have to be sure.
His acting skills would determine if she lived or died. But he’d be a hypocrite if he killed her, no better than the
piece of shit who slit that woman’s throat. Maybe this could be his own test. It was time to put memories of his sister to rest. He needed to rid himself of his weaknesses.
****
